Innocent (8 page)

I WAS CLEARING
away dishes from the first course of dinner when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Remington rarely had visitors, and they never came unannounced. Mainly it was Edward who visited. He’d come by on three occasions now. I’d been rehearsing in my head all afternoon what I’d say to him the next time I saw him. I wanted to thank him for what he had done for my mother—those words on her headstone. He was always so kind to me, but still I felt a little nervous around him. He was the mayor and—

The doorbell rang again.

“I wonder who that could be,” Mrs. Remington said.

“Lizzy, could you please get the door?” Mrs. Meyers asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I left the dining room and the Beethoven behind and hurried to the door as the bell rang for the third time. Whoever it was, they were both persistent and impatient. “Coming, coming,” I said to myself.

I threw open the door and it was that police officer, hat in hand. This couldn’t be good.

“Hello, Betty, Lizzy, Elizabeth Anne,” he said. His smile looked forced. “I’m here to speak to Mr. Remington and his mother.”

“He didn’t mean it. He really didn’t, and I’m still sure that Mrs. Remington will pay for the damage!”

“The damage is being paid for. I’m here to offer an apology to Mr. Remington and his mother. Are they here?”

“They’re here.” Richie was in the backyard with his pigeons, and I didn’t know if he’d come in. I might have to bring the officer out there.

“May I come in, please?”

“Yes, of course!” I opened the door wider, and he stepped inside. “Come this way.”

I started toward the dining room. I didn’t look back, but I could hear his big booted feet behind me. I pulled aside the curtain that led into the dining room and ushered him inside.

“Mrs. Remington, there’s somebody here to see you,” I said.

She looked up from her meal and to where I stood. “I can’t see the face, but judging from the blue blur, I do believe that would be Officer Gibson.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is.”

How did she know his name?

“I received a phone call from both my son and your chief,” she said. “I’ve known Ernie, your chief, since he was a baby. His family and my family are dear old friends.”

“He told me that, ma’am, when he explained that I should come over here and ask you and your son to accept my apology.”

“Well, that’s absurd,” Mrs. Remington said. “I will
not
accept your apology.” She paused, and I felt the tension rise in the room, almost as if somebody had suddenly turned up the heat. “And the reason for that is because you do not owe me or my son an apology.”

“I don’t?”

“Of course not. You were just doing your job. You didn’t know who Richie was.”

“I’ve only been on the force for three months. I moved here for the job.”

“Then how could you know? I hope Ernie wasn’t too hard on you,” she said.

“He was very, um,
certain
in his direction,” Officer Gibson said.

“You put that very diplomatically. The stories I could tell you about your chief as a boy! I always thought he was more likely to end up on the other side of the equation—criminal instead of police chief. Who would have thought that those two, best friends as boys, would end up chief of police and mayor?”

“Certainly not me,” Mrs. Meyers said quietly.

“I think Ernie and my son are simply naturally protective of Richie,” Mrs. Remington said.

“Families and friends should be like that,” Officer Gibson said. “I would do the same if it was my brother. I might have yelled at the police officer even louder.”

“The boy became the man,” Mrs. Meyers said, “and that boy—your chief—always seemed to be yelling.”

“Regardless, ma’am, I am truly sorry for any trouble I caused you or your son. Perhaps I could extend my apology to him.”

“I think the apology would trouble him even more. Lizzy explained what happened, and I know it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like you pulled a gun on him.”

He looked at me, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

“No, ma’am,” I said. I didn’t know why I was lying for the officer, but maybe I thought I was protecting myself as well. I was supposed to look after Richie, and he’d had a firearm pulled on him. I felt as if it was as much my fault as Officer Gibson’s.

“I was told there was some damage to the police car,” Mrs. Remington said.

“Yes, ma’am, there was a smashed headlamp.”

“Then I’ll have somebody get my purse so we can pay for the repairs.”

“It’s all right, ma’am. It’s been taken care of,” he said.

“Taken care of? How?”

He paused before he said, “It will be coming out of my pay.”

“Did you smash the headlamp?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then you will
not
be paying for it. Mrs. Meyers, could you please go and get my purse so that I can—”

“The chief was very insistent on that point,” Officer Gibson said. “Very insistent.”

“He can be as insistent as he wishes, but he is simply not going to tell me what I can and cannot do. He may be the chief of police, but I’m the mother of the mayor, and even the mayor—his boss—is wise enough to do as I tell him. Mrs. Meyers, bring me my purse!”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said and hurried off.

“I can’t see your face, but I’m assuming you look a little worried about taking money and defying the chief.”

He did look that way—sort of embarrassed and nervous and anxious rolled into one.

“This is just going to be our secret—the three of us and Mrs. Meyers. Lizzy, you can keep a secret, can’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you, Officer Gibson?” she asked.

“I can keep this one, believe me.”

“I know Mrs. Meyers can,” she said. “And I assure you, you don’t get to be my age without having more than a few secrets, so it’s agreed.”

“Thank you. I’m just so glad you aren’t mad at me,” he said.

“Mad? Only rabid animals are
mad
. I could be
angry
… but I’m not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think my dinner is getting cold, and that, young man, is something that I could become angry about. You should also know that it is poor manners to come to somebody’s house at dinnertime without an invitation!”

Her stern expression suddenly became a smile, and all the tension left the room.

“Sorry, ma’am, I’m leaving right now!”

“Lizzy, see our guest to the door.”

I followed him as he rushed through the curtain and toward the door. He was hurrying to get there as quickly as possible. I opened the door to let him out, and he stopped.

“I forgot about the money. She’ll be mad, I mean, angry, if I leave without it, won’t she?”

“Probably,” I confirmed.

“She’s a nice old bird. Not what I expected. I guess lots of things aren’t what I expected. Nobody told her about the gun.” He said the last word so quietly, I could hardly hear him.

“I don’t think Richie even noticed.”

“You noticed, but you didn’t say anything.”

I shrugged.

“Well, I noticed that you saved my bacon. Noticed and locked away,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “I won’t forget, Betty, Elizabeth Anne, Lizzy.”

“Lizzy is all right.”

“And David is all right with me. I’m David. I haven’t been a cop for long, but it seems like people don’t think you have a first name.”

He offered his hand, and we shook. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lizzy. I really don’t know many people around here. Were you born in Kingston?”

“Born here but raised someplace else. I’ve only been back a few weeks myself.”

“I guess we have a few things in common then. This isn’t such a big place that we won’t run into each other again.”

“I’m sure we will.”

“Matter of fact,” he said, “I’m going to work hard to keep an eye out for you so we
do
run into each other.”

I felt myself blushing. I hoped that Mrs. Meyers would arrive with the money soon.

I SAT ON
my little bed and took a sip from my cup of tea. The tea was just the way I liked it: warm and sweet with three heaping spoonfuls of sugar. The cup itself was of fine bone china, made in England, so light it felt like air, so thin I could see light through it. Not the type of cup we’d used at the orphanage, where even the toughest cups had seemed to crack and chip.

The house was quiet and still. Everybody had turned in for the night. I felt cozy and safe, tucked into my little room. For years I’d shared a room with Toni, and while I liked being with her, I’d always fantasized about having a room of my own. Now I wished there was a second little bed here, with Toni tucked into it. Wishing wouldn’t make that happen. Nothing would. There was only one thing to do to make her feel closer.

I placed the cup down on the night table and picked up the pad and pen I’d put there. Three times I’d tried to write Toni, and three times my efforts had ended up crumpled and in the wastebasket in the corner. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to write to her or didn’t have things to say to her, but it was still hard to know what to say. After all, I’d spent more time talking to her than anybody else in my whole life, but I’d never written her a letter before. Could I even be sure that she would get it? I guessed there was only one way to find out, and the starting part was easy enough.

Dear Toni,

I hope this letter finds you well. I also hope it finds you and that this letter-exchange system really works. My train ride was very uneventful. What was waiting for me was a little more eventful. I was picked up by a Rolls-Royce, like I was some kind of movie star. What I really am, of course, is a maid for a very rich family. I knew I was going to be a domestic, but I had no idea just how rich the family would be. That must sound naïve—which you’ve always accused me of being—because it isn’t like poor people have maids, but these people are really, really rich. Probably the richest in Kingston. And, if not the richest, certainly the most influential.

They are also a very nice family. There is the matriarch, Mrs. Remington. She likes classical music, like Mrs. Hazelton does. She is kind and nice, and she likes me. Her oldest son lives in the house. He is different. Not that he isn’t nice, but he doesn’t really get along well with other people. Perhaps that’s not correct. He doesn’t really understand people and they don’t understand him. He spends a lot of time with his pigeons. There is an older son,
Edward, who lives across town with his family. He is the mayor of Kingston and is very important. He is also very nice, and he actually does look like a movie star.

The people I work with—Mrs. Meyers the housekeeper, James the driver, Nigel the cook and Ralph the gardener—are all nice people. They have worked here so long that they all knew my mother. That is the strangest twist. My mother worked here. I lived here as a child and they all knew me and tell me stories now about what I was like. It’s very strange and quite wonderful.

I am writing this as I sit in my room. This is the room my mother lived in before she had me, and then we moved to a guest cottage at the back of the grounds. I grew up right here. Who would have ever thought this was possible? It wasn’t a coincid
ence. Mrs. Remington told me that she had a hand in making it all happen. She is a very important person. So important that even the police chief does what she wants.

Sometimes the things they say to me spark little memories. Mostly, though, it’s like I’m being told about somebody I don’t know or a movie I haven’t watched. Still, it is good to know something after knowing nothing. It makes me feel more…

I struggled for the word that would finish the sentence. I thought of a few before I came up with the right one.

…complete. It feels like a hole inside is being filled up.

When Mrs. Hazelton gave me that envelope, the last thing I wanted was to read what was inside. It hurt to find out about
my past, what had happened to my mother. I guess I need to tell you first.

This was not going to be easy, but I had to tell her. There was no other way.

I came into the orphanage because my mother was killed. The hard part is that she wasn’t killed in a car accident or something like that—she was murdered by my own father. They weren’t married, but still, he was my father. He was found guilty and sent away to prison.

It was painful for me to find all of this out. I guess I understand why they’d hide some things, but now I just wonder why they would hide so much from us to begin with. Good or bad, or in this case, even horrible, it is our lives, our past—it’s who we are. I’m discovering who I am, and while it’s strange and frightening and confusing, it is my journey. It feels like I’m reading a book after living a life that started on chapter four. Now I’m reading something about those early chapters. Maybe my mother wasn’t a princess, and there isn’t any magic to where I began, but it is my beginning.

I wish you were here to share in it and to help me understand it—the way I’d try to help you with what you’re discovering. Toni, I truly miss you. You are my best friend. I know, I know, I can just hear you telling me to stop saying the obvious, but I had to say it. I love you so much.

I’m so sorry that we didn’t have the chance to say goodbye. For a while I was angry about it, but you know I can’t stay angry at anybody for long, so I certainly couldn’t stay mad at you. I’ve decided we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye because it wasn’t really goodbye. It’s just until we meet again.

I want you to write back as soon as you can to tell me what you’ve found out, what’s happening in your life, what you’re doing, thinking, feeling, and when we can see each other again. Kingston and Toronto aren’t close to each other, but they aren’t that far apart either. We need to arrange for one of us to come to—

There was a knock on the door.

I pulled the blanket up slightly. “Yes?”

The door opened slowly, and Edward peeked in.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you this late,” he said.

“It’s all right.”

“I saw the light on under your door and hoped you weren’t asleep.”

“No, I was just writing a letter to a friend.” I held it up to show him and then instantly thought better of it, as if he could somehow read the line I’d written about him looking like a movie star.

“May I step in?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“I didn’t want to wake anybody up, but it’s only proper to ask formally before entering the bedroom of a young lady. I wanted to thank you for what you did for my brother today.”

“It was nothing, really, nothing,” I protested.

“It was much more than that. I heard about the altercation. Things could have gotten out of hand if you hadn’t been there to provide a calming influence.”

“I really didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not what the officer said.”

“You spoke to David—I mean, Officer Gibson?”

“David? It sounds like you spoke to him too,” he said.

I felt myself starting to blush for no reason. “When he came to apologize, we spoke for a few seconds.”

“He met with both me and the police chief.” He chuckled. “I must admit, I felt sorry for him. He seems like a nice young man.”

“He is. Well, I think he is.”

“Just remember,
seeming
nice doesn’t necessarily mean that somebody
is
nice. I only wish I could have convinced your mother of that.”

The words seemed to leap out of him, and I saw that he instantly regretted what he’d said. He looked embarrassed. I had to ease the discomfort.

“I wanted to thank you as well,” I said.

“Thank me for what?”

“For my mother’s headstone. I had no idea it would be so large.”

“You have to thank my mother for that.”

“I will thank her as well, but Richie told me that you were the one who insisted on it and that you wrote the inscription.”

“I wish he hadn’t told you any of that,” Edward said.

“I’m glad he did. What you wrote was beautiful.”

“I didn’t write those words as much as feel them. Your mother was a very, very special person. She was a kind and generous soul. She was as close to an angel as I’ve ever met in my entire life. If only…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. I don’t want to cause you any distress.”

“If it’s about my mother, I’d like to know. There’s so much I don’t know.”

I braced myself for something bad.

He looked like he was thinking, choosing his words carefully.

“Your mother was—how should I say this?—an innocent. She believed in people, and she always saw the best in them.”

“My friend Toni says that about me all the time!”

“It’s not surprising that you not only look like your mother but are like her inside too. Remarkable. Standing here looking at you, having this conversation in this room, brings me back to a time when I was much, much younger.” He shook his head. “I just wish, with all my heart, that I could have convinced her that not all people are worthy of trust.”

I knew instantly who he was talking about.

“Because she only saw the good in people, she didn’t see the evil. I knew it was there. In the end that’s what ended her life. If only she’d listened to me and stayed here—stayed away from him.”

There was no longer any doubt. He was talking about the man who had murdered my mother. He was talking about my father.

“That’s why I need you to understand that not everything and everyone is the way it seems all of the time. Take that young police officer. Perhaps he is not as nice as he seems. I want you to take measures to guard yourself, and always be aware. Can you promise me that?”

I nodded.

“Not just with him.” He paused again, so long that I almost jumped in to break the awkward silence. “I’ve been told that you’re spending a great deal of time with my brother.”

“He tells me stories about my mother and me when I was little. He remembers so much.”

“He does absorb facts and recite them, but always be careful of the context of those recollections.”

I had no idea what he meant.

“You know that he doesn’t understand many social situations, right?”

I nodded.

“That means he might know a date or even a time, but he doesn’t know anything about what is behind those facts. For example, have you talked to him about what happened with the police officer?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Good. In fact, I recommend that you don’t discuss it with him, but if you were to, even years from now, he could tell you the day it happened, who was with him, where he was going, possibly even the license-plate number of the police car. What he couldn’t tell you was why he was asked to stop, why he shouldn’t have walked away and why that could have led to a significant problem.”

“After it happened, he told me that he doesn’t talk to strangers.”

“And he didn’t know the police officer, so he wouldn’t talk to him,” Edward said. “From Richie’s perspective that makes perfect sense. Thank goodness our money and position in the community afford him some protection.”

“I didn’t expect him to do that with the shovel,” I said. “He’s always so nice.”

“He is basically nice, like a child, but there is a part of that child that is always dangerous. He just doesn’t understand the consequences of his actions. I feel bad for saying these things. He is my brother, and I’m very protective of him, but I feel the need to be even more protective of you. I can’t ever allow anything to happen to you—to dear Vicki’s daughter.” He sat down on the edge of my bed. “I just wish I had done more. I wish I could replay what happened. I will never stop feeling that somehow if only…” The words trailed away.

I reached out and put a hand on his hand. “I know you did all that you could.”

“You really are your mother’s daughter. Here I came to offer you my thanks and comfort, and you’ve been the one who gave me thanks and comfort.”

I didn’t know what to answer, but it made me feel warm inside—cared for.

“It’s getting late. I must go home before my wife gets worried.” He got up and went to the door. “Good night, dear Lizzy.”